#1
One in a Million Dead


The dictaphone clicks on.

Background noise includes: The subtle rustle of newspaper pages, whispers from Achilles lungs; I can see they are dying inside, the tinny drumbeat of someone listening to Million Dead, compressed air weaving through the crowd. A soft voice says 5 minutes....

Foreground sights include: 'London Waterloo - 4mins', a tunnel with no light at the end; the tangled ouroboros, hipster clad and clueless kids, businessmen living the dream, gum infected seats, the walking dead, the soon to be dead; airwasters, timewasters, lifewasters.

I don't dare sniff.

I am an author, ergo I am faceless, I'm just a dictating narrator; providing a novel take on pornography for cowards, only for nerds. I walk and I exist without so much as a mention of my name, or a shook hand, a pat on the back.
I write books because I wouldn't want to be a dedication in one, it usually means you are dead, masticated, it's like they acknowledge you've gone but didn't think fondly enough to say "In memory of.." it's just, "You're dead, here's a fucking book"; yet that is exactly how I feel.

“I WROTE 'POSTHUMOUS', I AM...”,”The train to London Waterloo will arrive in 3 minutes.”

Three people look up. One seated next to where I was standing, yet none of them want to know my name, not one. They're just people smiling at strangers on trains. I could jump right now, die before I’m ready: I know the kids are going to love it if I do.
Everyone here would forget who they are and where they were going for a second or two, perhaps wonder why I did it, but as quick as the train passes, they'll remember me as that bastard that wrecked their night out, seeing their sick mother, visiting friends; I'd just be a reason for the delay – their song to ruin. Bovine Spungiform Economics, or B.S.E. for short. They are all mad, every last one: 2 minutes until they all cram into that carriage like cattle, stand right, let the passengers off first.

I am dedicating this message to their fathers, a father, my father, who once said to me, “The breaking of the back was the making of the man." I want him to hear my back breaking. Giving him a note would be as if I gave my eyes to Stevie Wonder, it would kill the genius, spoil the gimmick. When he hears this I will become a man. Ordinary people will put a face to the name; they’ll see them in every newspaper, on every news report. They may not be able to pat my back or shake my hand, but they will all say, "he's that author that wrote ‘Posthumous’. Then I'll be another Kafka.

A soft voice says, “The train to London Waterloo will arrive in 1 minute.

The dictaphone clicks off. “I just need a moment to myself...”
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
Last edited by The Hurt Within at Feb 4, 2008,
#2
*sigh* once again, i'm just not good enough to help you.

i honestly liked everything about this. i have absolutely no suggestions.

sorry. i guess all i'm good for is bumping...


(hehe dirty)
when birds flap their wings do the make believe they're really arms?
#6

So much better than anything else I've ever read by you. why do you bother with the poetry when you can write prose like this?




love is a dog from hell.



#7
clueless kids, businessmen living the dream, not striking enough, more like, "oooohh, that stereotype again". the others were much more exciting.

I write books because I wouldn't want to be a dedication in one, it usually means you are dead, masticated, it's like they acknowledge you've gone but didn't think fondly enough to say "In memory of.." it's just, "You're dead, here's a ****ing book"; yet that is exactly how I feel.

love what your trying to say stevey boy, but I think the middle part in particular could sound a bit... smoother. i feel it stumbles somewhat.

not one. cluttery extraneous clause.

I'd be just i feel i'd just be sounds nice. but that's me. because the i and the just are closer, it brings that negativity out better.

very rare prose that i've seen from you, very strong, well articulated as usual. maybe it felt a bit stuffy to me, like sometimes the point could have gotten through a bit sharper, but overall it was a good read, steve.

touch me?
#8
On a prison poetry line-up, I don't think I would be able to identify this as yours. Very straight foward for you as far as word usage and grammer, but the plus in that is it left a lot more room for dictation and imagery.

I think a lot of people would be able to put themselves in this situation, on a train, nobody talking, tension kind of high, and in that instance, it is very easy for the mind to wonder, and I feel that you captured that feeling beautifully.

I'll be posting a sonnet I wrote here in a sec and I would love to start talking to you on messanger here soon again.

Lates,
-BJ
#9
I really love this. It pretty much leaves me in awe. I don't really think I am an advanced enough writer to critique it. Yet. If I tried to analyze something here I would probably just be misinterpreting it and you would set me straight in a reply. So I guess all I can say is nice work and enjoy the bump, this needs to be read by more people.
#12
Thank you Ray, Zach, Mat, Kyrl

Quote by we have sound

So much better than anything else I've ever read by you. why do you bother with the poetry when you can write prose like this?


The exact same thing dawned on me after I had finished this. I'm considering re-writing a few of my more wordy poems and seeing how they translate.

Jamie, I made a couple of changes. Thanks as usual.

BJ, I'm normally around on MSN, sometimes set as appear offline. When you're about, say hey. I like to keep everyone on their toes when they come to read a piece of mine.

Stm, and xxemo, thank you also. Hehe.

I am returning full crits for this, if anyone has anything to say...
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
#14
*faints* whoa. Very moving. Cant critique, I'm not quite advanced enough to even begin to criticize this piece, or any of your pieces most likely.
#15
worship, worship, bow, my knees hurt, bow, you can't have my cupped hands, etc.

I know your name, therefore I do not wish to know it. I'm dedicating my book to you, motherfucker.
#16
I am awe-struck.
I don't think I can help you.
I will; however, give a better comment sometime when I'm not completely exhausted.
Quote by Cal UK
Alk hit the nail on the head there.